


you have my heart.

by HighWarlockOfBrooklyn



Series: the malec mixtapes. [5]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29401107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighWarlockOfBrooklyn/pseuds/HighWarlockOfBrooklyn
Summary: Flowers can make the most beautiful poetry.
Relationships: Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: the malec mixtapes. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159826
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	you have my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Click on the title below to listen to the mixtape.

ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ[you have my heart](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1bOJegrHyCxDMrzuQyL3ig?si=35psEQcBRKeohN9NBJ4PaQ)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 0:35 ──o───────── -4:23

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ⇄ ㅤ ◃◃ㅤllㅤ▹▹ ㅤ↻ㅤㅤ

* * *

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Whenever Magnus takes a particular interest in something, it usually won't take him long to busy himself with it for months or even years. Whether it was playing the charango—which he would most likely not pick up an interest in again—or fancying himself as a mixologist or a detective, Magnus would alway yield to his perpetual curiosity and immerse himself with his fascinations. At the moment, it was floriography that has managed to stir his attention. It was not a new interest. About a couple of centuries ago Magnus had had his hand at the art of flower arranging, painting with the language of flowers. Although now, a certain new interest of his seemed to coincide well with his old hobby that somehow it felt right for a renaissance. And that's how Magnus's loft ended up appearing like a botanical garden that afternoon.

The loft's high ceiling was obscured by a canopy of _**cedar leaves**_ , dangling down from branches that seemed to break out of the walls. Hanging from those branches were pots of _**orchids**_ in whites and yellows draping over them like curtains. The portraits and paintings that were hanging from the walls were now replaced by bunches of _**wallflowers**_ , in bright yellows and reds, pouring out its crevices. The floor, once covered in wooden floorboards were now covered with dirt and patches of purple _**milk vetch**_ sprouting from the ground and around like an irregular fairy circle. That meant gone were the cushioned seats, the coffee table, and other furniture and electronics that occupied the center of Magnus's living area too. In their place were chiseled stones carpeting the floor, forming a patio bordered with hedges of _**diosma**_ that were trimmed with rounded edges. Behind the hedges were bushes of vivid yellow _**furzes**_ lining around the edges of the Magnus's pop-up botanical garden.

“Did you uproot a part the Seelie Court?” Alec asked after a long perusal and awe of Magnus's apartment-slash-botanical garden when he arrived from the Institute that evening.

“I don't think the Clave could just turn a blind eye if you did, even if you are the warlock representative,” Alec joked, in his usual straightforward and deadpan delivery. It wasn't always easy for others to know when Alec was joking, but Magnus would always catch it.

“Not even with my amorous entanglement with the Inquisitor's son?” Magnus spoke playfully before leaning in for a kiss.

“I'm sure I can work something out,” Alec replied in a low voice, breathing against Magnus's lips when they parted. Magnus kissed him again, briefly and lightly, before they pulled away from each other and return their attention back to the floral display surrounding them.

Magnus watched Alec as he continued to study the flowers around him. “What's all this for anyway?” Alec asked as he brushed the curtain of orchids, smiling a little as he felt its soft petals against his palms. 

That smile would immediately disappear though as soon as a realization struck him. He then turned to Magnus and asked, “Oh, no. Did I forget our anniversary?”

“That's not for another few months, darling,” Magnus chuckled lightly seeing the look on Alec's face. “I just found an old book that reminded me of when I was enchanting Parisian nobles with flower language. I may have the tendency to be silver-tongued but I'm no good with writing or poetry—”

“Yeah, I remember the journal you gave me,” said Alec. Magnus winced. He didn't take it to heart but it did hurt slightly like a paper cut.

“Some parts of it were okay. I still can't believe you would talk about Camille's... err, bosoms, that way,” Alec continued with what Magnus thought was slander. Nevermind Camille, it was Alec thinking his writing was ‘okay’ that got to him.

“So I'm a terrible writer,” Magnus spoke calmly. At least he thought he did. He wasn't certain if that was how it came across or if he seemed constipated. “But I can make poetry with flowers.”

“Every flower has meaning, an idea or concept they symbolise,” Magnus continued, now somewhat recovered from Alec's unwitting attacks on Magnus's pride. “Even the cedar leaves above and the diosma hedges around us symbolise something.”

“When you arrange these flowers together in a bouquet it's like stringing together words to form lines and stanzas of poetry. But, of course, why would I settle for just a bouquet when I can make a whole garden,” Magnus shrugged and smiled somewhat smugly, feeling like he had recovered from the blow to his pride earlier.

“What does this all symbolise then?” Alec asked, looking at the flowers and then to Magnus.

Magnus smiled and simply replied, “My love for you.”

He held up his hands and a wispy wave of bright blue light wrapped around them. With a gentle motion of his hands, he summoned a slew of stemless flowers of purple, blue, and white. The purple flowers were known as _**viscarias**_ and made up a majority of the summoned flowers, dancing around them like a wave of ribbons. Blending in between the purple flowers were the tiny blue _**forget-me-nots**_ and specks of _**baby's breaths**_ , trickling down but never quite falling to the ground. Instead they would slowly fade and cycle back, ceaselessly cascading like snow.

“These are viscarias,” he said as he let a few heads of the purple flowers land on his palm. “It asks the question, will you dance with me?” Magnus held out his hand towards Alec and he smiled, accepting the warlock's hand and releasing the viscarias to rejoin the flowers' dance.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

* * *

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Hearts Day! Can't say the V-word because a certain someone with the poor old saint's namesake is an evil bastard man, hahaha.


End file.
